Twisted
by Pavid
Summary: Drake figures that Sam doesn't even care that he's just as twisted as Drake now, because who isn't twisted in the FAYZ?  M/M slash Drake/Sam.


There is so little slash for this fandom... It is infinitely depressing. So here is my contribution to this fandom's slash archives.

Warnings: Sex, slash, Drake's twisted-ness, though it is _way_ toned down.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters used in this story, which is, by the way, purely fictitious, and completely non-profit.

Sam comes to Drake because Drake's the only mostly-human left in the FAYZ that isn't afraid of him.

Sam comes to Drake because Drake isn't afraid to hurt him, to hurt him a lot, and for reasons Drake cannot fathom, that is what Sam wants.

Sam comes to Drake because his little pet genius can't give him what he wants, won't give him what he needs. Because Sam needs to be abused.

Sam knows this is twisted. Sam tells Drake how twisted it is while they're in the middle of fucking. Sam tells Drake how twisted it is as Drake pounds into him so deliciously hard, as Sam claws his back in ecstacy, as he arches his body to a seemingly impossible point, trying to get Drake to go '_Deeper, deeper, HARDER!'_

But Drake figures that Sam doesn't even care that he's just as twisted as Drake now, because who isn't twisted in the FAYZ?

Sometimes Sam cries while they're fucking. Except that these times, when Sam is spinning out of control, sobbing but moaning, these times, they aren't even fucking. They're somewhere between having sex and making love, and this scares Drake more than Sam ever did. This scares Drake in such a deep rooted way, because Drake has never loved anyone in his entire life, and even if he doesn't love Sam now, he's closer than he's ever been with anyone else.

Sometimes after they've made love, Drake wants to whip Sam. He wants to hurt him badly enough that Sam will never come back to him, because if Sam stops coming back, he won't be the enemy that Drake is falling for. He'll only be the enemy. And the enemy is something that Drake can destroy.

And now with Sam writhing below him, panting harshly as Drake bites down on one of his nipples, hard. Now Drake can feel it welling up inside of him, this thing that he assumes is love. As he licks Sam's delicious chest he is almost choked with fear, because _nonono_ Drake does _not_ love! Drake _kills!_ Drake tortures, maims, hurts, but nevernevernever does Drake love.

But Drake continues anyways, sliding smoothly into Sam without any preperation, which is just the way they both like it. Sam moans in simultaneous pain and pleasure, his hands coming up to grasp Drake's shoulders in a vise-like grip and his body soundlessly begs Drake to take him, take him far far away from all the pain of this insane world they live in. And in an epiphany-like moment, Drake wonders if perhaps Sam loves this pain because it's just barely enough to cover the pain of everything else in his life.

Sometimes, more recently, they've begun talking a bit after they've finished. Before Sam throws his clothes on and hurries through the door, they lay in the small bed, a foot of space between them, just staring up at the ceiling, and sometimes they talk.

Sam talks about everyone he's hurt. The people he couldn't save. How they were only children.

And Drake responds that there are no children in the FAYZ. Only killers.

Drake groans as he slides, pounds, in and out of Sam's tight little ass, leaning over to run his tongue along all of his too-visible ribs. He bites down, and Sam's panting whimpers increase a considerable amount in volume. But this isn't quite what Drake wants.

When he's with Sam... When he's with Sam is the only time he ever wants to be gentle. And this time, just this time, he gives into his inexplicable urge.

He slows his pace, pulling almost all the way out and then pushing back in until he's enveloped down to the root, laying feather-light open-mouthed kisses all across Sam's scarred, skinny chest.

This is hard for Drake. It's hard because he's never done this before, because he doesn't know how to do this, but this is what he needs to do. He needs to show Sam, through his actions, how he feels. He doesn't think he wants Sam to know that he loves him, but he wants Sam to know that he is loved.

Sam opens his eyes, previously closed in pleasure and pain, and looks down at Drake, confused. His beautifully soft looking lips part, about to ask him why he's being this way, and Drake doesn't want to hear it, so he does something else he's never done in his entire life and he kisses Sam.

He licks his way into Sam's warm mouth, tasting his impossible sweetness, rubbing their tongues together in an adoring caress, coaxing Sam to kiss him back. He continues stroking in and out of Sam's willing body, running his one hand up and down Sam's side.

He can feel it overwhelming him, this love. He has to part his mouth from Sam's, panting, both from lack of air and his rising passion. He latches his mouth onto Sam's neck, licking and sucking and kissing, his hand coming to rest on Sam's hip, thrusting into him with more speed.

Sam is making completely different noises than Drake's ever heard before, soft whimpers, almost of pain, but filled with pleasure as well. Drake raises his head and looks into Sam's eyes, something he never does during sex, and he can see a deep pain that has nothing to do with the physical world at all. Drake wants to take that pain away, because now that he's found something to love, he doesn't want it to be hurt.

Drake buries his face in Sam's shoulder, breathing unevenly as his heart threatens to pound right out of his chest, and he wants to hold Sam in his arms, he wants, he can't... And never before has he hated his whip arm like he does at this moment. He hates its ugliness, because he can't possibly let it contaminate Sam, and so he tries to coil it away from Sam, hiding it as his shame.

And Sam is whispering his name in his ear, voice full of pleasure, which pleases Drake in turn. He goes a bit harder, nailing Sam's prostate, making him cry out. And it's still so gentle, so lovingly gentle, and this time Sam's not even crying.

He can feel his orgasm building up inside him, and he clamps his jaws firmly together, pumping in and out of Sam at an increasingly uneven pace. His good hand reaches up to tangle in Sam's thick blonde hair, and he raises his head to kiss the side of Sam's strong handsome jaw, and while he explodes into ecstasy, his heart shatters painfully as he brokenly whispers his deepest secret into Sam's ear.

"I love you..."

And as Sam shudders his own orgasm against his stomach it's all Drake can do not to collapse in horror at what he's said.

He rolls off of Sam, like always, and turns away, his back to the beautiful boy behind him. He waits, listening to Sam's unsteady breathing, for him to get up and leave as he has every time before this.

He's done it now. He's completely ended his life. He thought he could survive in the FAYZ, he thought he could make it big. He would be the biggest, the worst thing to ever walk Perdido Beach, and he would kill anyone who didn't bow down to him. And then Sam had to come along. He blew off Drake's arm... And somehow Drake had fallen in love with him.

But the worst truth of it was how this was the end. Sam would not come back to him after this, and if Drake was being honest with himself, he had no idea why Sam had come in the first place.

Sam was like this great shining beacon of hope, and sure he had problems, but who didn't? Drake was this dark, twisted, disgusting thing, a creature born of hell, and all he was doing here with Sam, night after night, was dirtying him. A demon, raping an angel.

And Drake turns over as Sam softly calls his name, expecting to be blasted by Sam's green light.

But Sam cracks a small smile, before pulling him into a kiss, a kiss that melts his insides, a kiss that saves Drake's heart from further damage.

"We're so twisted."


End file.
